The Penny Dreadfuls MEGAPACK™ (144 page)

Such, however, was not the case, for no sooner had comparative order been restored, than common observation pointed to a dull red glare in the southern sky.

In a few more minutes there came in stragglers from the open country, shouting “Fire! fire!” with all their might.

CHAPTER L.

THE MOB’S ARRIVAL AT SIR FRANCI
S VARNEY’S.—THE ATTEMPT TO GAIN ADMISSION.

All eyes were directed towards that southern sky which each moment was becoming more and more illuminated by the lurid appearance bespeaking a conflagration, which if it was not extensive, at all events was raging fiercely.

There came, too upon the wind, which set from that direction, strange sounds, resembling shouts of triumph, combined occasionally with sharper cries, indicative of alarm.

With so much system and so quietly had this attack been made upon the house of Sir Francis Varney—for the consequences of it now exhibited themselves most unequivocally—that no one who had not actually accompanied the expedition was in the least aware that it had been at all undertaken, or that anything of the kind was on the tapis.

Now, however, it could be no longer kept a secret, and as the infuriated mob, who had sought this flagrant means of giving vent to their anger, saw the flames from the blazing house rising high in the heavens, they felt convinced that further secrecy was out of the question.

Accordingly, in such cries and shouts as—but for caution’s sake—they would have indulged in from the very first, they now gave utterance to their feelings as regarded the man whose destruction was aimed at.

“Death to the vampire!—death to the vampire!” was the principal shout, and it was uttered in tones which sounded like those of rage and disappointment.

But it is necessary, now that we have disposed of the smaller number of rioters who committed so serious an outrage at the inn, that we should, with some degree of method, follow the proceedings of the larger number, who went from the town towards Sir Francis Varney’s.

These persons either had information of a very positive nature, or a very strong suspicion that, notwithstanding the mysterious and most unaccountable disappearance of the vampire in the old ruin, he would now be found, as usual, at his own residence.

Perhaps one of his own servants may have thus played the traitor to him; but however it was, there certainly was an air of confidence about some of the leaders of the tumultuous assemblage that induced a general belief that this time, at least, the vampire would not escape popular vengeance for being what he was.

We have before noticed that these people went out of the town at different points, and did not assemble into one mass until they were at a sufficient distance off to be free from all fear of observation.

Then some of the less observant and cautious of them began to indulge in shouts of rage and defiance; but those who placed themselves foremost succeeded in procuring a halt, and one said—

“Good friends all, if we make any noise, it can only have one effect, and that is, to warn Sir Francis Varney, and enable him to escape. If, therefore, we cannot go on quietly, I propose that we return to our homes, for we shall accomplish nothing.”

This advice was sufficiently and evidently reasonable to meet with no dissension; a death-like stillness ensued, only broken by some two or three voices saying, in subdued tones—

“That’s right—that’s right. Nobody speak.”

“Come on, then,” said he who had given such judicious counsel; and the dark mass of men moved towards Sir Francis Varney’s house, as quietly as it was possible for such an assemblage to proceed.

Indeed, saving the sound of the footsteps, nothing could be heard of them at all; and that regular tramp, tramp, would have puzzled any one listening to it from any distance to know in which direction it was proceeding.

In this way they went on until Sir Francis Varney’s house was reached, and then a whispered word to halt was given, and all eyes were bent upon the building.

From but one window out of the numerous ones with which the front of the mansion was studded did there shine the least light, and from that there came rather an uncommonly bright reflection, probably arising from a reading lamp placed close to the window.

A general impression, they knew not why exactly, seemed to pervade everybody, that in the room from whence streamed that bright light was Sir Francis Varney.

“The vampire’s room!” said several. “The vampire’s room! That is it!”

“Yes,” said he who had a kind of moral control over his comrades; “I have no doubt but he is there.”

“What’s to be done?” asked several.

“Make no noise whatever, but stand aside, so as not to be seen from the door when it is opened.”

“Yes, yes.”

“I will knock for admittance, and, the moment it is answered, I will place this stick in such a manner within, that the door cannot be closed again. Upon my saying ‘Advance,’ you will make a rush forward, and we shall have possession immediately of the house.”

All this was agreed to. The mob slunk close to the walls of the house, and out of immediate observation from the hall door, or from any of the windows, and then the leader advanced, and knocked loudly for admission.

The silence was now of the most complete character that could be imagined. Those who came there so bent upon vengeance were thoroughly convinced of the necessity of extreme caution, to save themselves even yet from being completely foiled.

They had abundant faith, from experience, of the resources in the way of escape of Sir Francis Varney, and not one among them was there who considered that there was any chance of capturing him, except by surprise, and when once they got hold of him, they determined he should not easily slip through their fingers.

The knock for admission produced no effect; and, after waiting three or four minutes, it was very provoking to find such a wonderful amount of caution and cunning completely thrown away.

“Try again,” whispered one.

“Well, have patience; I am going to try again.”

The man had the ponderous old-fashioned knocker in his hand, and was about to make another appeal to Sir Francis Varney’s door, when a strange voice said—

“Perhaps you may as well say at once what you want, instead of knocking there to no purpose.”

He gave a start, for the voice seemed to come from the very door itself.

Yet it sounded decidedly human; and, upon a closer inspection, it was seen that a little wicket-gate, not larger than a man’s face, had been opened from within.

This was terribly provoking. Here was an extent of caution on the part of the garrison quite unexpected. What was to be done?

“Well?” said the man who appeared at the little opening.

“Oh,” said he who had knocked; “I—”

“Well?”

“I—that is to say—ahem! Is Sir Francis Varney within?”

“Well?”

“I say, is Sir Francis Varney within?”

“Well; you have said it!”

“Ah, but you have not answered it.”

“No.”

“Well, is he at home?”

“I decline saying; so you had better, all of you, go back to the town again, for we are well provided with all material to resist any attack you may be fools enough to make.”

As he spoke, the servant shut the little square door with a bang that made his questioner jump again. Here was a dilemma!

CHAPTER LI.

THE ATTACK UPON THE VAMPIRE’S HOUSE.—THE STO
RY OF THE ATTACK.—THE FORCING OF THE DOORS, AND THE STRUGGLE.

A council of war was now called among the belligerents, who were somewhat taken aback by the steady refusal of the servant to admit them, and their apparent determination to resist all endeavours on the part of the mob to get into and obtain possession of the house. It argued that they were prepared to resist all attempts, and it would cost some few lives to get into the vampire’s house. This passed through the minds of many as they retired behind the angle of the wall where the council was to be held.

Here they looked in each others’ face, as if to gather from that the general tone of the feelings of their companions; but here they saw nothing that intimated the least idea of going back as they came.

“It’s all very well, mates, to take care of ourselves, you know,” began one tall, brawny fellow; “but, if we bean’t to be sucked to death by a vampire, why we must have the life out of him.”

“Ay, so we must.”

“Jack Hodge is right; we must kill him, and there’s no sin in it, for he has no right to it; he’s robbed some poor fellow of his life to prolong his own.”

“Ay, ay, that’s the way he does; bring him out, I say, then see what we will do with him.”

“Yes, catch him first,” said one, “and then we can dispose of him afterwards, I say, neighbours, don’t you think it would be as well to catch him first?”

“Haven’t we come on purpose?”

“Yes, but do it.”

“Ain’t we trying it?”

“You will presently, when we come to get into the house.”

“Well, what’s to be done?” said one; “here we are in a fix, I think, and I can’t see our way out very clearly.”

“I wish we could get in.”

“But how is a question I don’t very well see,” said a large specimen of humanity.

“The best thing that can be done will be to go round and look over the whole house, and then we may come upon some part where it is far easier to get in at than by the front door.”

“But it won’t do for us all to go round that way,” said one; “a small party only should go, else they will have all their people stationed at one point, and if we can divide them, we shall beat them because they have not enough to defend more than one point at a time; now we are numerous enough to make several attacks.”

“Oh! that’s the way to bother them all round; they’ll give in, and then the place is our own.”

“No, no,” said the big countryman, “I like to make a good rush and drive all afore us; you know what ye have to do then, and you do it, ye know.”

“If you can.”

“Ay, to be sure, if we can, as you say; but can’t we? that’s what I want to know.”

“To be sure we can.”

“Then we’ll do it, mate—that’s my mind; we’ll do it. Come on, and let’s have another look at the street-door.”

The big countryman left the main body, and resolutely walked up to the main avenue, and approached the door, accompanied by about a dozen or less of the mob. When they came to the door, they commenced knocking and kicking most violently, and assailing it with all kinds of things they could lay their hands upon.

They continued at this violent exercise for some time—perhaps for five minutes, when the little square hole in the door was again opened, and a voice was heard to say—

“You had better cease that kind of annoyance.”

“We want to get in.”

“It will cost you more lives to do so than you can afford to spare. We are well armed, and are prepared to resist any effort you can make.”

“Oh! it’s all very well; but, an you won’t open, why we’ll make you; that’s all about it.”

This was said as the big countryman and his companions were leaving the avenue towards the rest of the body.

“Then, take this, as an earnest of what is to follow,” said the man, and he discharged the contents of a blunderbuss through the small opening, and its report sounded to the rest of the mob like the report of a field-piece.

Fortunately for the party retiring the man couldn’t take any aim, else it is questionable how many of the party would have got off unwounded. As it was, several of them found stray slugs were lodged in various parts of their persons, and accelerated their retreat from the house of the vampire.

“What luck?” inquired one of the mob to the others, as they came back; “I’m afraid you had all the honour.”

“Ay, ay, we have, and all the lead too,” replied a man, as he placed his hand upon a sore part of his person, which bled in consequence of a wound.

“Well, what’s to be done?”

“Danged if I know,” said one.

“Give it up,” said another.

“No, no; have him out. I’ll never give in while I can use a stick. They are in earnest, and so are we. Don’t let us be frightened because they have a gun or two—they can’t have many; and besides, if they have, we are too many for them. Besides, we shall all die in our beds.”

“Hurrah! down with the vampire!”

“So say I, lads. I don’t want to be sucked to death when I’m a-bed. Better die like a man than such a dog’s death as that, and you have no revenge then.”

“No, no; he has the better of us then. We’ll have him out—we’ll burn him—that’s the way we’ll do it.”

“Ay, so we will; only let us get in.”

At that moment a chosen party returned who had been round the house to make a reconnaissance.

“Well, well,” inquired the mob, “what can be done now—where can we get in?”

“In several places.”

“All right; come along then; the place is our own.”

“Stop a minute; they are armed at all points, and we must make an attack on all points, else we may fail. A party must go round to the front-door, and attempt to beat it in; there are plenty of poles and things that could be used for such a purpose.”

“There is, besides, a garden-door, that opens into the house—a kind of parlour; a kitchen-door; a window in the flower-garden, and an entrance into a store-room; this place appears strong, and is therefore unguarded.”

“The very point to make an attack.”

“Not quite.”

“Why not?”

“Because it can easily be defended, and rendered useless to us. We must make an attack upon all places but that, and, while they are being at those points, we can then enter at that place, and then you will find them desert the other places when they see us inside.”

“Hurrah! down with the vampire!” said the mob, as they listened to this advice, and appreciated the plan.

“Down with the vampire!”

“Now, then, lads, divide, and make the attack; never mind their guns, they have but very few, and if you rush in upon them, you will soon have the guns yourselves.”

“Hurrah! hurrah!” shouted the mob.

The mob now moved away in different bodies, each strong enough to carry the house. They seized upon a variety of poles and stones, and then made for the various doors and windows that were pointed out by those who had made the discovery. Each one of those who had formed the party of observation, formed a leader to the others, and at once proceeded to the post assigned him.